


Object Lesson

by misha_anon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time Maturbation, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:37:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_anon/pseuds/misha_anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean explains the purpose of pornography and Castiel finally gets it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Object Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this would fit into canon. Sometime after 6x10.

"Why do you watch those movies, Dean?"

Castiel studies Dean's face, eyes narrowed, as though the answer to his question will be found somewhere in the freckles on his pink cheeks or the swell of his bitten lips.  This isn't the first time he's caught Dean watching these videos, but he's decided it's high time to try to understand.

"Why  _wouldn't_  I?  Have you - No. I  _know_  you've watched porn.  I was there, remember?"

He nods, remembering very well trying to puzzle out the pizza man and the babysitter's relationship.  He steps further closer to the bed and Dean closes the laptop on the nightstand reflexively, looks down at the top of it where he taps his fingertips.

"Yes, the pizza man.  But.."

"Are you trying to tell me it didn't do  _anything_  for you, Cas?"

Dean's voice has that salacious quality that Castiel recognizes but never quite understands the way he thinks it must be meant.  He tilts his head, looking down at Dean, watching the blush spread across his freckled nose.  Dean swallows and slides back from the edge of the bed, his legs splayed to leave a space between.  Castiel watches, perplexed, and can't help noticing the erection on display under the thin fabric of Dean's underwear.  He licks his lips, raises his eyes to Dean's face.

"I don't understand the question."

Dean smiles patiently and leans back on his hands.  Castiel feels his own cock hardening at the new view of Dean's thin t-shirt clinging to his torso, tight across his chest with each shallow breath and pulled up by the position to flash a strip of skin.  Dean's nipples are as hard as his cock, Castiel notes before he shifts from one foot to the other and swallows.

"I'm asking if you felt anything while you were watching it."

"I felt.."

Dean's half open mouth and the pink of his tongue pressed to his bottom lip is distracting.  Castiel tries to think, searches his memory for feelings at that specific moment.  He tries to finish the sentence just as Dean reaches around to pick a piece of lint off his underwear, just over his hip; Dean's cock jumps at the light brush of the back of his fingers, and suddenly the word comes to Castiel.

"..confused."

He isn't expecting Dean's laughter, the throaty chuckle that seems to bubble up from nowhere.  He watches carefully as Dean bites it back and grins instead.

"I think the word you're looking for is 'horny', Cas.  It made you want to  _be_  the guy, right?  Made you want to be the one spanking the girl, touching her, having sex with her."

Castiel opens his mouth to say something, but all his words seem to have evaporated with the rush of blood to his groin and although he rarely notices changes in temperature, he'd swear the room just landed on the surface of the sun.  He loosens his tie, unbuttons another button on his shirt.  Dean watches the movement of Castiel's hands and he feels like an experiment being studied.  He shifts uncomfortably, cheeks burning so hot he's sure they're glowing.  

The heat of the room and Dean's eyes is overwhelming, so Castiel tugs off his coats, letting them fall to the floor.  It's a bigger relief than he even imagined and he finds he can almost breathe again.  Finally, he meets Dean's eyes again and nods, his answer coming out as a raspy whisper.

"Yes."

Dean pats the bed between his legs and Castiel hesitates.

"Come on, I don't bite."

It occurs to Castiel to ask what biting has to do with anything, but the rawness of Dean's voice convinces him of the question's relative unimportance.  He moves to sit between Dean's legs, perched on the edge of the bed.  He tenses when he feels Dean's muscular chest pressed against his back, feels hands on his hips before they slide around to his stomach.  Castiel's breath goes funny, shallow, like he can't get enough oxygen as Dean finishes unbuttoning his shirt and pulls it open.

"You aren't supposed to try to understand what's going on in them.  They aren't  _supposed_  to make sense."

Dean's voice is much too close and rougher than usual, a tone that makes Castiel's spine tingle with pleasure.  He leans back, feeling his body relax as Dean's hands stroke over his chest, fingertips drag lightly down his stomach and back up.  His breath catches and he shivers when Dean's fingertip circles his nipple.

"But, why.."  It comes out as a squeak.  He clears his throat, regroups, tries again.  "Why would I want to be confused?"

Dean chuckles again; a soft, warm rumbling sound to match the soft, warm breath on Castiel's neck.  He can feel precome wetting his underwear as Dean's touch grows bolder, more insistent.  He tugs at Castiel's nipples, a gentle touch that sends a heated buzz to the pit of Castiel's stomach, makes him surprise himself with his own soft moans.

"When you're good and  _confused_ , you get to imagine.  You know how to imagine, don't you?"

Castiel whimpers as Dean's fingers move away from his nipples, slide down over his tensed stomach once more.  He's dimly aware of his belt being unbuckled, his slacks being unbuttoned.  It's hard to think coherently enough to answer when Dean starts to kiss his neck, soft presses of lips and the scrape of stubble against sensitive skin.  He tries to take a deep breath, but it feels like there's a fist around his lungs.  He licks his lips, whispers.

"Of course I do."

Dean pushes Castiel's slacks open, settles the fabric as low as he can with one hand.  The fingers of his other hand slide between Castiel's fingers and he raises both their hands.  Castiel's hips jerk instinctively toward the touch when Dean pushes their hands into his underwear, wraps their fingers around his rock hard cock.  He can feel his blush deepen, burning the back of his neck and his ears when Dean whispers in his ear.

"Tell me what you imagine."

Castiel's world goes sideways when Dean starts to move their twined fingers up and down his cock; slowly, steadily.  He gasps and arches, hips finding a rhythm to press into the pleasure it brings, his free hand grips Dean's knee to steady himself as his mind races with the things he imagines.

"You."  His throat is so dry it hurts to speak, but he pushes forward, trying to ignore the way Dean's breath catches then whooshes across his neck ahead of a nibble.  Dean pushes their hands faster up and down Castiel's cock as he struggles to continue.  "I imagine touching you.  The way..   _ah, ah_..  the way..  you taste."

" _Fuck_."

Dean sounds as wrecked as Castiel feels, his free hand wandering back up to tease at Castiel's nipple as his breath comes harsh against Castiel's ear.  He guides their hands, up and down, twists Castiel's palm over the head of his cock until Castiel cries out and bucks into it, then pulls their hands back down to the root and squeezes.  Castiel is beside himself, head dropping back onto Dean's shoulder with his eyes squeezed tight as he claws at Dean's knee.  The slow stroke and twist and quick return pushes words out of him.

"I imagine you..  touching me.  The look in your..   _nghnn..  Dean_..  the..  the look in your eyes when..  when you kiss my stomach.  I..  you.."

Dean pulls his hand away, leaving Castiel's fist to do the work as his palm flattens against Castiel's stomach to pull him back and hold him steady.  Kisses on the side of Castiel's neck turn to bites mixed with growls mixed with wet nibbles and a nuzzle of rough stubble.  Castiel feels his nerves fray, his thighs aching with the need for release that tightens the muscles of his stomach.  Dean's fingers twist and pinch at his nipples in turn, pulling his body like a puppet to the touch as Castiel continues stroking.  His fist moves more quickly, slowly building intensity that threatens to tear him to shreds.

"You like that?  My lips on your stomach, my hands on your hips?  Do you  _like_  it when I kiss you, Cas? "

There's a frantic undercurrent in Dean's words as his fingers curl around Castiel's hipbone, his hips jerk forward to grind the hardness of his cock into the the small of Castiel's back.  Castiel squeezes a little harder, twists his fingers around the head of his cock, accidentally finding the sensitive spot underneath.  It takes his breath away completely, makes his very bones shiver with need, so he presses again and again, squeezing and stroking and crying out.

" _Dean_!"

Dean's teeth close over the side of his neck, a savage bite accompanied by a moan of pleasure.  Castiel grunts, then whimpers as his cock jerks in his hand, pulse after pulse of thick, sticky come coating his fingers and soaking his underwear.  His hand slips to Dean's thigh, nails digging into the thick muscles as little points of light explode behind closed eyelids and the need for oxygen makes his chest burn. 

He can feel the relief flowing in the tingling warmth of his thighs and the shiver down his spine, feel the tension uncoiling and running through his veins.  His body goes stiff, shudders, then relaxes and goes soft against Dean's.  His heart is thumping as he strokes the come up and down his softening cock.

When Castiel remembers to breath, he's panting like he's just run a marathon, each harsh breath making him more and more dizzy with the return of much needed oxygen.  He squeezes his fingers, slick and wet and shivers again at how sensitive his cock is.  Dean is gasping against the side of his neck, hot puffs of breath that do nothing to help Castiel catch his runaway train of thought. 

He licks his lips and swallows again, enjoying the electric hum of pleasure over his skin.  Dean is rubbing soothing circles over the still twitching muscles of his stomach, other hand still clutching his hip.  It startles Castiel when Dean clears his throat, but he doesn't have the energy to move aside from loosening his grip on Dean's leg.  Dean's voice soft and seems much further away than it possibly could be.

" _That_  is why I watch 'those movies'."

Castiel nods, dazed.  He pulls his sticky hand out of his underwear and wipes it on his slacks as he tries to pull his mind away from imagining and back to the conversation in progress.  Dean's delighted laughter and a kiss to his jaw are Castiel's rewards when he answers,  "I think I understand now."


End file.
